


Found At The Bottom Of A Glass

by Anxious_Apple



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Angst, Character Death, Closeted Character, Dark, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Night Stands, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Destruction, Slow Burn, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25990105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxious_Apple/pseuds/Anxious_Apple
Summary: Filled with angst and regret Ben turns to drunken one night stands, Callum, who's working in The Vic, can't possibly watch him destroy himself... can he?
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first dip into smut. I'm not 100% confident that it will be as good as the stuff other people write, but anyway, its only a small part of the story. Hope you enjoy.  
> I also have given myself 10 chapters to tell this story as a sort of deadline to myself, this number may change.

It had been a whole year since Paul. 365 days without him. Ben was left only the memory of his skull smashed against the concrete, the sense memory of his skin - cold but drenched in sweat - and his own terrible guttering screams. "stop it! just fucking stop! You're gonna kill him" the words were shaking, echoing out into the empty alley with nobody there to hear. He might as well have been stranded in space and calling for help, the teenagers with the fists and baseball bats certainly weren't listening. They were too blind with rage to care.

Ben remembered how it felt, like someone had turned down the volume on the rest of the world. Still he'd kept on yelling, he had to. His howling was like that of an injured animal, horrible and ear piercing, until a thin and reedy whine was all that tumbled from his mouth. In desperation he shuffled away, and tried to reason with them. That memory was the worst in retrospect, they just wouldn't see sense. "please, he didn't do nothing wrong. I-I"

Ben grabbed his glass in desperation and forced it all, every single drop of burning liquid, down his throat. A single thought pervading over all others, you could've done something. You should have saved him. It wasn't that he was unused to the searing self-criticism, being closeted for it came with the territory, he just wasn't used to it having such a potent moral centre to it. He wasn't exactly used to it being undeniably right.   
"You all right mate? Anythin' I can get ya?" Ben jumped, but this was a friendly voice, one with a smile in it. Looking up reluctantly he saw an unfamiliar face at the bar. He was oddly handsome, in a gangly sort of way. Although his eyes made it, they were bright blue, there was something behind them too, something warm.  
"Same again I think" Ben stuttered, and quickly looked away. It wasn't his fault that his tongue was spongy, he hadn't spoken to anyone for a week. 

"Alright" The man said, before he spun around theatrically to pick up a cup. When he turned back to face Ben, watching carefully as he half-filled the tumbler with vodka, he said. "I don't think I've seen ya around before."   
"Oh... I uh, only just got back" Ben replied "off Holiday, ya know."  
courtesy of her Majesty   
"Ah right, anywhere nice?"   
_shit_ Ben thought. He sounds like he's interested. Nobody’s _actually_ interested unless they want something, like to take advantage, or take the piss. Nobody around here anyway.   
He fumbled for a few moments, in an attempt to piece together a cover story. "Nowhere excitin', not Ibiza or anythin'" he finally said "just needed time away from my fam'ly you know?"  
"Sure, sure. Long as the weather's nice you can have a holiday anywhere though"  
"S'pose" Although it would be difficult to make the of HM Chilwell a holiday; no all-day bars, no poolside views, and the en-suite was just a rusty toilet bolted crudely on to the cell wall a mere two feet from the bed. The man turned away then, making his way around the group that had amassed and he was (astonishingly) as friendly and smiley as he had been with Ben...  
For some reason he felt his stomach twist, and for that Ben berated himself, why would a someone that worked with people for a living, and who got paid to put people at ease, be exclusively interested in his life story?

His night receded into silence again after that, with the occasional topping up from another member of staff - The nice stranger appeared to go home about 11pm. Not really a surprise since The Queen Vic was open all day. – But he couldn’t stop thinking about him, those damned softly twinkling baby blues. They almost took his mind of everything this past year... Almost but as he would come to learn, not quite.  
Ben was just stumbling to the toilet when there was a buzz in the pocket of his jeans. He whipped out his phone and blearily read the notification which popped up, holding the phone up to his face like he was 72 not 20-odd. It was a single sentence and one that he’d been waiting for.

He'd been chatting to this bloke for a few days, a well built, super-model looking guy. He probably went to the gym 5 times a week and seemed like the type who could look after himself.  
It was an abrupt message, but it said all it needed to _Ty – My place, tonight. I’ll be waitin._  
  
Despite himself, and his horribly inebriated headache Ben found himself with a sad smile on his face. He said a quick goodbye to the girl who’d been bringing him drinks for the last few hours and wobbled out of the pub. Almost immediately his drunkenness hit him around the head like a rubber truncheon. He tottered over the cobbles, praying that he wouldn’t break an ankle while the wind whipped icily at his fingers and nose. It was a good job that this bloke lived so close, only a few feet out of Walford, he considered – woozily – that he wouldn’t have made it much further without plummeting face first into a ditch.  
Still, make it he did. It was a nice ground floor apartment, distinguishable by the pile of empty larger cans which littered the path leading up to it. He knocked at the door with a near frozen fist, BAM BAM BAM and the sound ricocheted off into the darkness. It didn’t take long for it to pop open, revealing Tyler. He was just like his profile picture, but less smiley. His mouth was instead an expectant smirk.  
“All that drinkin’ ‘ll get you into trouble” Ben slurred, pointing at the mountain of cans.  
Tyler crossed his arms and made an attempt to look disproving, although his eyes barely hid his amusement. “Could say the same about you. How many’ve you had tonight?”  
“Stop whingin’” Ben bawked, shoving him in the stomach. _Holy shit he IS buff_ He found his lustful thoughts stirring, it was like trying to push a brick wall.  
“you wan’ed he here for somethin’ din’ cha?” Ben winked, and tried to push him again “What was it eh?”  
Tyler flashed a set of perfectly white teeth, the first time Ben had ever seen them “You know what I want”  
  
It didn't take long for the lust to overtake Ben, almost as soon as he was through the door they had slammed their lips together, all hunger and desperation. They kissed in the hallway, then up against the wall. The guy easily overpowered Ben, lifting his arms up behind his head and peppering his neck with his burning lips. Ben felt the guy's hot breath and wondering hands stirring something in the region of his waistband. “Feels good to have a criminal as my own little bitch,” growled “maybe I’ll be his big ‘ol mafia boss one day”

"Oh fuck" He gasped, grabbing Tyler by the collar.

"Whatever you want" the stranger purred into his ear, a greedy smile on his face.  
He was good, if a little business-like, now. A few quick pecks on the mouth and he was lowering Ben back to the bed, lifting his shirt off, the cool air sending chills up his abdomen.  
With one slick move that he’d probably practiced a hundred times Tyler’s shirt was off too, and then he was pulling down his pants.  
“Efficient ain’t ya” Ben slurred, “can you teach me that trick?”  
“shut up” and was straddling him, his cock already pressing hard against Ben’s skin.   
Ben struggled underneath him to undo his own pants… and then they were fucking, the efficiency present in every which part of the process continued. With a few swift thrusts Ben was on the verge of climax.  
He slung his head back “Christ! Just keep goin! Fuckin’ ‘ell” and it was over.  
  
They unravelled themselves from one another, Ben completely aware of every inch of his body, it was shaking, exhausted. But Tyler was looking more than a little disgruntled.  
“That was amazin’” Ben said, but when he opened his eyes again Tyler was stood over him again, fury in his eyes.  
“Who the fuck is Paul?”  
Ben’s heart leapt. “Eh?” the only word that his dumbfounded mouth could utter  
Tyler growled again, his gruff voice, and furrowed suddenly less sexy, more utterly terrifying.  
“Who is he? ”  
“While I was shaggin’ you, that’s what you said. You said Paul.”  
Ben gawped “Tyler I… I’ve only known you five minutes. I, you, you can’t expect me to-“  
“to what to know my fuckin’ name? That’s the least I fuckin’ expect”  
“I’m sorry, I-”  
Tyler was shaking his head now, slowly, derisively. He looked like a teacher – not mad, just disappointed. “I thought you wanted me, I thought that I was a bit of fun no strings attached, just phone up and fuck sort of job, not a bit on the fuckin’ side. I thought you wanted _me”  
Ben was utterly defenceless, he should have known, that day, that hour, that minute, every one was still with Paul. How the hell had he been so stupid as to lead another guy on? A guy that wanted no strings attached fun?  
“_Get out. I never wanna see you again”  
<


	2. Chapter 2

The words struck in an instant, but they took what felt like years to dissipate. Even after a minute of stunned silence they were still echoing off into the rest of the flat. The words were growing smaller but none-the-less potent, the damage was done. The depth charge had already exploded making his ears ring, ripping open a fresh wound inside of him. It obliterated what little 'Old Ben' he had managed to piece together. He couldn't even have a one-night-stand properly.

Mumbling clumsy apologies and even clumsier explanations Ben stood up and began to wrestle with his clothes. Pulling at his sleeves, throwing his shoes at his feet somewhat ineffectively; he was bent double tying the laces on his trainers when Tyler grimaced and started to growl again. It was almost imperceptible until he chose to be heard – in that way he was like a poltergeist, or a hunter who’d perfectly orchestrated a series of traps, and who was just taking advantage of the trigger.

"Did you even hear what I said?” He hissed “I don't want you here. I don't want to see you again, now get the fuck out of my house."

Numbly, Ben left the room, slamming the door behind him. He was still so utterly smashed that he near convinced himself that he had some power over the situation. He liked to imagine – for example - that even through the closed door he could see Tyler stopping to think. He could just imagine him battling with his conscience, feeling bad for kicking him out, for being so harsh with him… maybe even crying a little bit? Would that be a bit much? No, Ben eventually decided, it would be exactly what he deserved.  
  
He lingered by the door for far too long, waiting for the private emotional outburst that never came. When he concluded that he wouldn’t even win on this front he padded back across the hallway and out into the night. It was even colder now than it had been just an hour ago, the wind had turned into an icy mist. Every mouthful of air he swallowed felt like anti-freeze, and it didn’t mix at all well with the bright hot pang of his hangover waiting to happen. What it did do was sober him up, more effectively than a bitterly cold shower. It was now that the pain came back though, when he wasn't being numbed by drink. He’d got used to the repeat bouts of hideous nausea and headaches, but Paul came back to him as well.

it wasn't like in the movies when a character would have minute long flashbacks played on a screen behind their eyes. Hell, Ben didn't even get to see all of Paul - not that he deserved that kind of luxury, not now - instead he came back with fresh horror, in the tiny echoes which would be imperceptible to anyone else. Was that a brush of his hand against Ben's skin? The smell of rusty blood as it clumped in his hair? The breeze certainly had a certain sleepy quality, sounding strikingly like breaths uttered while he was fast asleep. Ben was perhaps two minutes from his front door when he stopped dead, his brain screaming at him. "This is what you're doing for Paul, trying to forget him?" He berated himself "sleeping your way around East London? Throwing yourself at anyone that'll have you? It's not helping anything, it's not even helping you!" He thought he had a point, as biting as it was but the more he fought against his own thoughts his mind kept presenting more and compelling images. He found his eyes prickling, his chest afire with a silent scream he just didn't want to utter in the middle of the night. A stranger looked quizzically across the street at him, she was pretty but shy. She clutched her purse to her side and swept her fringe across her face before scurrying away.

"I ain't gonna do nothing" Ben called after her, near choking on his words "I'm gay! Big fat raging homo" he tried to smile his usual cheeky grin. But he just couldn't coreograph his facial muscles, so he probably looked psychotic. 

He was the one that would fall prey to his own feelings more complex than he could handle. The more he tried not to cry the more silent tears ran down his cheeks. 

* * *

Another evening at the Vic listening to the hustle and bustle of a typical, close community London Borough. Everyone was chatting, either catching up with old friends or having a few drinks after work. Ben was doing neither, he was only there for its most base function, the drink. A glass, the fourth of the evening so far, had appeared in front of him. It fizzed quietly with the whisper of tonic water.

“Tough day?” the lanky, smiley barman (who was becoming more familiar by the hour) asked.

Ben huffed, knocked the contents of his glass back and placed it back on the bar in one swift jerk of his arm “that’s an understatement mate, men are massive pricks” he concluded.

“mm” the barman affirmed without being committal. That was it, he didn’t pry, dig, or force him into talking like someone else might have done; even if it would fill the awkward silence which bloomed around them. God… what did this bloke get from being so nice. Somehow it worked the opposite way and meant that Ben felt like he could talk - although the alcohol was undoubtedly helpful in greasing his conversational gears.

“And I’m not just talking about their actual pricks, even though some of ‘em are a bit disappointing y’know.” He continued and mimed a rather crude gesture across the bar “I just mean… them, the whole package. Where do they get off being so shit?” 

It took a few moments for the Barman to reply, he had turned a shade of red, shock colouring his expression. If Ben hadn't been tipsy, he would have been a bit more courteous, apologising, or at least feeling a little bad for embarrassing the bloke but he had all the tact of a drunk. None.

“It’s just society innit I suppose. It’s how we’re bought up to be” The other man eventually reasoned, rather clumsily. It sounded like he was wrestling with his own tongue, or as if he was digging through a list of hundreds of things he wanted to say. “My Dad always said he wanted me to be a proper man, and a bit of that's the reason why I'm workin' ere. Bet yours was the same.” _  
you don’t know the half of it. Ben thought but he responded with a sharp nod.  
_ “Yep. There must be something we get from it then, something that makes blokes want to be macho and all that bollocks.” Ben mused, finding himself feeling strangely reflective.

“Survival” the man muttered, almost without thinking. The idea was surprisingly profound for one stumbled upon through a haze of alcohol – although that was the joy and the audacity of life under the influence, everything could be awesome, everything could be laughable.

Unbeknown to Ben there was an ever-increasing number of grouchy looking men behind him, waiting stolidly for their drinks. One particularly large guy at the front of the crowd gave a peeved cough at which the other man startled. It seemed like he’d only just seen them.

“Sorry!” he called to them, then he bent down almost conspiratorially in front of Ben “we can sort that theory out in a minute”

He was about to turn away again, the chance to rapidly receding, Ben simply had to grasp it! And grasp it quick.

“I’m Ben by the way, Ben Mitchell.” he introduced himself. Although it was backwards, and arguably late "If we're going to keep running into each other like this then I'd best know your name y'know" “Oh… Callum, Callum Highway”  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick update to keep this fic going, will update again before Wednesday x Thanks for the ongoing support and lovely comments/kudos :) In this dry spell they're really appreciated - not long now though

The sun broke through the living room curtains like an axe to the head next morning. Ben Mitchell woke up exactly where he'd fallen in the early hours, sprawled face down on the sofa. He moved a little, stretching as he began to wake up. Every muscle in his body ached in complaint as he rolled over and into a sitting position. Groaning, he looked down at his clothes - they were the one's from last night, still carrying the odour of sweat and vomit. He was still breathing through the gag inducing after-burn of alcohol too, and his mouth felt like sandpaper.

For a second morning in a row he'd woken up like this. It wasn't a record exactly, but it was an indication that he could still get up to par with his Dad. He wrestled with his lead-heavy limbs eventually standing and pouring a long glass of water. He took two sips before he wobbled back to the sofa, where he scrunched his eyes shut and pleaded for a few more hours sleep. Utterly resigned to losing the morning (perhaps even the rest of the day) he registered a dim sense of relief as he sunk into sleep again. Almost as soon as he’d closed his eyes, they were open again, only this time it felt like he'd skipped a whole fortnight.  
  
He had registered a movement somewhere in the house, feeling it like an animal would feel a predator in it’s den. Perhaps that was perhaps why he’d woken up? Nobody else came into his house without calling first, nobody except-  
  
"Lo!" He gasped, "Shit, what time is it?"  
"Half nine, good night was it?" Lola called from the corridor. She was already walking around, hanging up coats and humming a quiet tune under her breath.  
"Alright.“ Ben lied - not seeing her face made it easier - neither of the last two nights had been good, if he was honest with himself things hadn’t been, he was surprised he was able to master his cocky grin again through the giddiness. ”Didn't get any but 's not the end of the world"  
"Managed to get smashed though din't ya." Lola said as she walked through the doorway. She scrunched her face upon eyeing all the evidence - his scruffy hair, and the puddle where he’d drooled in his sleep.

"Is it that obvious?" Ben said, trying to look oblivious to how gross he probably looked.  
She was buying none of it. "Ben, you look like you've been dragged out the Thames." She sniffed, and her face turned even more sour. "you stink an' all. Where've you been?"  
"Only at The Vic" he said, "Albert's gettin' a bit borin' now. There's only so many times you can snog the same blokes with the same music playin' in the background. Y'know, I think I had 3 separate blowies on 3 separate nights from the same bloke! Vogue was playin each time.  
Lola turned her lip in disgust. “Don’t need to know"  
Ben tried to look hurt "Thought you cared how I was doin'" he put as much of the whiny teenager as he could into his face, looking up at her through his eyelashes. It was the textbook definition of the puppy-dog look.  
"Course I do" she sighed "’specially after everythin’, just spare the gory details please, Lexi might hear. You know what she's like, little bat ears she's got"  
"Lex is 'ere? Why din't ya say" As much as he was he never _imagined_ his daughter seeing him as a messy, hungover dad too tired to make 3 days together interesting.  
  
"she’s upstairs sortin' her suitcase out.” Lola clarified “You've got 'er till Wednesday remember? Me an' jay are having a few days away"  
"Oh yeah sure." As if it had been orchestrated there was a sudden crash, probably of the suitcase falling over. It sounded like it was going to fall through the floor!  
"Alright up there babe?" Lola called, while Ben cringed - the sound had set his ears off again. His head was full of a single high pitched shriek, like a bomb had gone off by his head.  
  
"Fine" came a tiny voice "all sorted" of the front door, and a came barrelling across the room at a million miles an hour "DADDY!!" Lexi shouted gleefully and leapt straight for Ben's lap  
"Oof watch where you're bouncin' sweetheart" He chuckled as she landed on his stomach. He adjusted her gently so that she sat next to him - rather than on top.

"Daddy's a bit sore at the minute." Lola pointed out with a smirk. This made Lexi stop, at first out of concern, but then out of plain childish amusement. A delighted smile blossomed across her face, and it was almost possible to see the light-bulb flashing above her head.  
She’d solved it! She’d figured out one of the many mysteries that adults presented her with.  
  
"That why you're sleeping on the sofa, I thought you’d been having a sleepover" Ben uttered a low chuckle, never missed a trick that girl.  
"Well I would have liked to do that" he said winking at Lola "but your mum said I wasn't allowed.“  
Some of the concern came back. Lexi had a way of looking at someone that made anyone feel a little bit understood.  
"Are you feelin' poorly then?" she asked, her voice was soft this time.  
"Somethin' like that. I stayed up a bit too late watchin' telly"  
Lexi

She perked up again. Telly after all was one of Lexi’s favourite things, especially when it incorporated her habit of copying anything her dad was doing.  
"What were you watchin?" she asked, bouncing up and down again.  
Ben shrugged ”oh I dunno some scary movie“  
”Anyway it scared me _so much_ that I couldn’t sleep!  
“What happened then did someone have their head’s chopped off?” Just like a lot of kids’ she didn’t think of the that she was saying. She of such intense brutality.  
  
“LEXI..” Lola cautioned.  
“What? Dylan _\- in my class -_ watched the texas chainsaw mass-cer with _his_ dad and-”  
“Alright! That’s enough. Darlin’ I don’t think he _really_ watched it.”  
“Yeah ‘e did! He said there was a chainsaw in it and everythin’”  
“That’s in the title though innit?”  
“Yeah so if there’s definitely one in it then, he’s definitely watched it!”  
  
Lola’s phone buzzed making everyone jump. For some reason the conversation about scary films had made the feel tense. “Right. That’s Jay on the phone, I’ll be off then. See ya Wednesday” “Bye” Father and daughter said in unison.


End file.
